The Princess Elopes | Page 2

ask an officer to
direct you to any place. This is regarded in the light of an insult. The
cub-lieutenants do more to keep a passable sidewalk--for the passage of
said cub-lieutenants--than all the magistrates put together. How they
used to swagger up and down the Königsstrasse, around the Platz, in
and out of the restaurants! I remember doing some side-stepping myself,
and I was a diplomat, supposed to be immune from the rank
discourtesies of the military. But that was early in my career.
In a year not so remote as not to be readily recalled, the United States
packed me off to Barscheit because I had an uncle who was a senator.
Some papers were given me, the permission to hang out a shingle
reading "American Consul," and the promise of my board and keep.
My amusements were to be paid out of my own pocket. Straightway I
purchased three horses, found a capable Japanese valet, and selected a

cozy house near the barracks, which stood west of the Volksgarten, on
a pretty lake. A beautiful road ran around this body of water, and it
wasn't long ere the officers began to pass comments on the riding of
"that wild American." As I detest what is known as park-riding, you
may very well believe that I circled the lake at a clip which must have
opened the eyes of the easy-going officers. I grew quite chummy with a
few of them; and I may speak of occasions when I did not step off the
sidewalk as they came along. A man does more toward gaining the
affection of foreigners by giving a good dinner now and then than by
international law. I gained considerable fame by my little dinners at
Müller's Rathskeller, under the Continental Hotel.
Six months passed, during which I rode, read, drove and dined, the
actual labors of the consulate being cared for by a German clerk who
knew more about the business than I did.
By this you will observe that diplomacy has degenerated into the gentle
art of exciting jaded palates and of scribbling one's name across
passports; I know of no better definition. I forget what the largess of
my office was.
Presently there were terrible doings. The old reigning grand duke
desired peace of mind; and moving determinedly toward this end, he
declared in public that his niece, the young and tender Princess
Hildegarde, should wed the Prince of Doppelkinn, whose vineyards
gave him a fine income. This was finality; the avuncular guardian had
waited long enough for his wilful ward to make up her mind as to the
selection of a suitable husband; now he determined to take a hand in
the matter. And you shall see how well he managed it.
It is scarcely necessary for me to state that her Highness had her own
ideas of what a husband should be like, gathered, no doubt, from
execrable translations from "Ouida" and the gentle Miss Braddon. A
girl of twenty usually has a formidable regard for romance, and the
princess was fully up to the manner of her kind. If she could not marry
romantically, she refused to marry at all.
I can readily appreciate her uncle's perturbation. I do not know how

many princelings she thrust into utter darkness. She would never marry
a man who wore glasses; this one was too tall, that one too short; and
when one happened along who was without visible earmarks or signs
of being shop-worn her refusal was based upon just--"Because!"--a
weapon as invincible as the fabled spear of Parsifal. She had spurned
the addresses of Prince Mischler, laughed at those of the Count of ------
- ------ (the short dash indicates the presence of a hyphen) and General
Muerrisch, of the emperor's body-guard, who was, I'm sure, good
enough--in his own opinion--for any woman. Every train brought to the
capital some suitor with a consonated, hyphenated name and a pedigree
as long as a bore's idea of a funny story. But the princess did not care
for pedigrees that were squint-eyed or bow-legged. One and all of them
she cast aside as unworthy her consideration. Then, like the ancient
worm, the duke turned. She should marry Doppelkinn, who, having no
wife to do the honors in his castle, was wholly agreeable.
The Prince of Doppelkinn reigned over the neighboring principality. If
you stood in the middle of it and were a baseball player, you could
throw a stone across the frontier in any direction. But the vineyards
were among the finest in Europe. The prince was a widower, and
among his own people was affectionately styled "der Rotnäsig," which,
I believe, designates an illuminated proboscis. When he wasn't fishing
for rainbow trout he was sleeping in his cellars. He was often missing